


i bet my life (i bet on you)

by riots



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Post-Mass Effect 3, bottle episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 04:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17676524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riots/pseuds/riots
Summary: It was just supposed to be an easy pit stop on the way to unveiling a monument. Naturally, since Shepard's involved, everything's gone a little bit sideways.





	i bet my life (i bet on you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neph Moreau (NephthysMoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephthysMoon/gifts).



> hello neph!! and happy january jubilations etc!! i was lucky enough to get a crack at your prompt and i had a lot of fun with this!! 
> 
> -
> 
> brief emetophobia warning at the end

As the engines wind down to cruising speed, Joker leans back in the pilot’s seat, shifting his hips and stretching his hands behind his head. It’s been a long enough trip and sure, being back behind the controls of the Normandy is great, but he’s already bored. 

Gloved fingers settle on the back of his chair, and he doesn’t even have to look back to know who it is. “How are we looking?” Shepard asks, glancing over his shoulder at the haptic screen. “Command was worried about how the relay was holding up.”

Joker scoffs. “Damn near perfect,” he says. “Drift is minimal, we’re right on target.” He tips his head back to look at her, catching the slow growing smile on her face. “What, are you starting to doubt me _now_?”

“Never,” Shepard tells him. She folds her arms over her chest and tips her head. Like that, even relaxed, she looks formidable, unmoveable. She doesn’t wear her armour as much as she did, before. Now she’s in civvies, more often than not. Maybe it’s just cause he’s known her for so long, but she still looks just as larger than life as she always has.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says, and she grins at him. He basks in it, just for a moment. Too long, and he’ll just start feeling sorry for himself, but he can give himself a minute. “Did Command send us final coordinates yet?”

She nods. “Shouldn’t take us too long to get there.” She leans over him to draw up the map. He tries not to think about it too much. “Looks like they’ve drifted a little from their assigned orbit, but they can’t have gone far.”

“We detected them on the sensors as soon as we passed through the relay.” EDI’s voice is emanating from the speaker on his console, but Joker still glances at her empty seat out of habit. That’s not something he’ll get used to any time soon. At least she’s back. “It will take us approximately four and a half hours to reach our destination.”

“Plenty of time,” Joker says. His hips are aching again. He shifts his weight up. “You could even get in a nap.” He squints up at Shepard. “You do know how to take a nap, do you?”

“I think someone told me about a nap, once,” she says wistfully. There’s a part of him that wishes that she would relax, take a break for once in her life, but he knows that’s not how she’s geared. She’s come back from the dead, got the goddamn Citadel dropped on her, and it barely broke her stride. It’s something he’s always loved about her.

“Are we certain that _I_ am the artificial intelligence?” EDI asks, and Joker laughs, delighted. He’s missed this.

“She’s got the robot arm,” he agrees. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Joker watches Shepard flex her new hand into a fist. They’re getting close to a line, here. He leans back to catch Shepard’s gaze, watches the tension around her eyes ease away. His stomach lurches traitorously. He’s got to stop reading into things. “Maybe Cerberus installed some anti-nap tech?” she suggests.

“The Illusive Man _was_ evil,” Joker says. 

“That he was,” Shepard says, with the relish of the woman who ended him. She taps her knuckles against Joker’s shoulder. “I’m going to train. Give me a shout when we’re close.”

“Aye aye.”

Being back behind the controls of the Normandy after the war was like coming home, but it wasn’t the same without everyone else there. Not until EDI was back, of course, but is it really the Normandy without Shepard in command? No offense meant to Kaidan, obviously, but those months while she was still in recovery and the Alliance had them flying goodwill missions to boost morale - well, they just felt weird. This was much better. 

 

 

Vega’s footsteps are heavy and the whole shuttle shifts as he hauls himself in. “Hey, where’s Esteban?” he asks, blinking in surprise. 

“I decided to give him the day off,” Joker says, gesturing magnanimously. 

Vega snorts. “Uh huh,” he says, and he looks pointedly back over his shoulder to where Shepard’s still getting ready. “Sure.”

“Don’t you have a badge to polish or something?” Joker says, and Vega laughs, waving him off. 

His armour is pretty shiny already, honestly. As Shepard steps up next to him, the difference is stark, and absolutely hilarious. Vega looks like he just stepped off an N7 recruitment poster, the red stripe so clean you can practically see yourself in it. Shepard? Well, she’s got other priorities than a paint job. The insignia is barely readable at this point. Joker’s pretty sure some of it is salvaged from when they found her after the Citadel. It’s more sentimental than anything. Besides, he’s pretty sure no one’s gonna forget _Commander Shepard’s_ credentials. They’re splashed all over the extranet and every news page there is. You’d have to be blind to forget it.

“Joker,” Shepard stows her shotgun and pauses to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I don’t remember asking you on this mission.”

She hadn’t. It was assumed, as usual, that Steve would pilot the shuttle. Joker had decided to make good use of his four hours by bribing Steve to hang back so that he could take the field mission for once. He’s not even particularly sure why the whim hit him - but maybe it’s got something to do with seeing her in that old armour again, and thinking about the bad old days, the ones where he was never sure she’d be coming back.

Once, she didn’t.

“Didn’t you? Weird. Could’ve sworn you told me that you needed me on this one,” Joker says, and she raises an eyebrow at him but lets it slide. They’ve got years of history now, and he’s not afraid to leverage that. 

Vega settles himself in a seat and props his arms on his knees. “You always hear voices?” he asks Joker, a smirk pulling his smile crooked. Shepard is busying herself triple-checking her armour and weaponry, but Joker doesn’t miss the eye she’s keeping on the both of them. 

“More like a ghost,” Shepard corrects, punching the button to close the shuttle, and Joker’s gut does that horrible lurch it does whenever she reminds him that she died. She never says that it was his fault, but, well. His brain does that for him. 

“Hey!” Joker says loudly. It’s child’s play to rev up the engines and ease the shuttle out of the hangar, out into space. “So! What are we doing here?”

EDI’s voice is tinny through the speakers. “The Balor system saw a great deal of Reaper focus, but this mining station may have slipped their attention due to their size. We are hoping to find some survivors.”

Vega leans back, folds his arms over his chest. “And still make it to Caleston in time for -” He flaps a hand, “- whatever it is we gotta do.”

“Kissing babies?” Joker suggests. “Cutting ribbons?”

He glances back at Shepard, who frowns. “I think it’s a monument?” she says slowly. She’s got the grace to look embarrassed, at least.

“Correct,” EDI agrees. “The mining coalition in the capital is erecting a monument to the guerilla forces who provided a resistance to the Reaper invasion during the war.”

“Sounds fun,” Joker says.

“You reenlisted,” Shepard points out. Joker makes a fart noise. They both know that he only did it so he could stay on the Normandy. Honestly, at this point? If he wasn’t flying her, he doesn’t know what he’d be doing. Drinking, maybe. He moves forward in his seat, pressing a hand against the small of his back. The shuttle chair is already doing a number on him.

“So.” Vega claps his hands. “Dinky little space station, then a shiny new statue. You think they’ve got an open bar?” He considers this, and Shepard and Joker share a look, rolling their eyes. “Totally gonna use the whole war-hero thing if they don’t.”

Shepard rubs a hand across her face. “Okay. Let’s get this over with,” she says. “Joker?”

“On it.” Joker pivots back to the haptic controls and cracks his knuckles. It’s a nothing job, but it’s kinda nice to get off the ship for once, get on the ground. “Looks like the docking controls are still responsive. I’ll have us in there in a flash.”

Shepard’s hand lands on Joker’s shoulder again. “I know you will.” He’s living for that smile in her voice.

 

 

They dock without incident. When they pop the seals, stale air rushes in, and Joker wrinkles his nose. “Filters haven’t been changed in a while,” he says and Shepard nods, reaching for her shotgun. She’s got her Commander face on, her shoulders squared, eyes alert. It’s just some shitty little mining colony station, the likelihood that there’s anything _actually_ here is slim to none, but she’s still ready for anything.

To be fair, she probably should be, all things considered. The weirdest shit happens to them.

“Sensors indicate the air is breathable, and gravity is functioning normally,” EDI says. “You may proceed.”

“Famous last words,” Joker grumbles, and he holds out a hand in apology when Shepard shoots a look at him. “Right, okay.”

“Stay sharp,” Shepard says, as she and Vega step off the shuttle. “Better to be prepared than to get caught off guard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joker says. He flexes his foot, trying to alleviate some of the ache in his side. “I’ll keep the engine running.”

He watches the two of them make a sweep through the narrow docking bay, listening to the echo of their boots on the metal flooring. From what he can see from here, the place looks long abandoned. He’d be surprised if anyone’s been here since before the end of the war. Vega brings his omnitool up to examine the docking station controls. “Looks like no one’s been in here in a long, long time.”

Shepard reads the records over his shoulder. “Last recorded entry is from before Rannoch. Damn.”

Joker decides to take a gamble. He leans down, gathers up his pistol, and hobbles out into the station. “The Reapers must not have bothered with a target this size,” he says. Shepard gives him a nod as he emerges. “How did EDI put it? ‘Tactically insignificant’.”

“Indeed,” EDI agrees.

Vega is poking into the next room already, and Shepard moves to follow him. “Next time,” she says as she passes Joker, “armour. No exceptions.”

Joker clicks his tongue and sits gingerly down at the dingy little desk. “But it ruins my girlish figure,” he says.

Her lips pull into a tight line. “If something happened to you…” 

She won’t look at him, and the weight of her voice... It knocks the air right out of his lungs, and it takes him a solid twenty seconds to remember how to talk. “Armour,” he says, finally. “Got it.”

“Thank you.”

Vega reappears. “My omnitool is on the blink,” he says. Joker watches it flicker and shake on his wrist. 

“Some sort of electrical interference?” Shepard asks.

“Dunno. Gonna get a dedicated scanner from the shuttle, see if there’s anything localized I can pick up.”

“Do it.” 

The rapid blink of the out-of-date docking computer catches Joker’s eye, and he swings his chair back behind the desk to get a better look. “Hey, Shepard?” he says. “Shit, we’ve got a warning running on this thing. Something about a last resort?”

“Sounds not-fun.” Shepard raises her omnitool to her mouth. “EDI. Thoughts?”

“There is a sizeable electromagnetic pulse charging up in the engine core,” she replies, voice crackling with every flicker of Shepard’s omnitool. “It was triggered by the arrival of life signals on the station.”

“Uh, _how_ did we miss this?” Joker asks, staring up at Shepard.

Her brow has settled into a determined line. “How much time do we have?”

“Thirty seconds.”

Not enough time to get out of here before they’re stranded. But maybe - “James, go,” Shepard orders. “Take the shuttle now. We don’t all need to get stuck here.”

“Commander -” 

“Go.”

The entire hangar rattles as Vega (very poorly) revs the thrusters and Joker feels a little morose watching their exit route shoot back out into space. “We should’ve figured something like this would happen,” Joker says.

“EDI, report.”

“The program was hidden…-hind the firewalls. You- ...ten seconds.”

“We’re losing you. Say again.”

Joker only hears the beginning of EDI’s reply when the pulse hits. The station shakes around them and he braces himself against the flimsy desk as everything shifts and the lights strobe and finally go dark. The station’s hum ramps up until Joker can almost feel it in his teeth, and then it cuts out. “Is it -” he begins, but before he can finish the thought, he’s lifting up off the seat.

“If gravity’s gone, so is life support,” Shepard says. She thumps a finger against the collar that hangs under his shirt, activating his personal shield. “I _told_ you. Armour.”

His voice sounds loud in his ears now. “I get it, I get it.” He’s trying to keep a hand on the desk to keep himself from floating away, but Shepard catches his wrist, pulls him down to her. He’s really wishing he had a pair of magboots right about now. 

“Normandy? Do you copy?” Shepard’s voice is tense, and she sighs. “Do you read?”

Joker hangs on to her shoulder and manages to settle himself into roughly an upright position again. “Looks like we’re on our own,” he says. He’s trying _really_ hard not to be nervous about that. Normally, when Shepard gets herself neck deep into something crazy, she’s at least got someone useful with her. He doesn’t remember the last time he hit the shooting range, and if he floats around for too much longer, he’s probably gonna bounce off something and break a rib. That’d be embarrassing. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Shepard says, and his gut starts to unknot when he can see her weary smile behind her helmet. “At least I’ve got good company.”

“But a shit shot,” he replies. She just shakes her head at him. “So. Plan?”

She pulls his hand over to grip her shoulder plate. It feels like an anchor, holding him down. “Same as it was. Find out if there’s anyone still here, see if we can provide help.” 

“Just with some new bonus sidequests.” 

She steers the two of them out of the docking bay into a narrow corridor. The belly of the station. Dingy, off-white walls, faded floor panels worn out long before the last occupants of the place left. There’s a thick layer of dust on the floor, or there was. Now it’s all rising into the air with Shepard’s footsteps, swirling up in their wake. “No trace of recent activity,” Shepard says. “No records, no footprints, no nothing. It’s unlikely we’ll find anything.”

“Agreed,” Joker says. The first door they open reveals what used to be a warehouse. There’s a handful of empty crates, but the big room is mostly empty. “Looks like they cut and ran.”

Shepard looks back at the trail along the floor, back to the hangar. “And left a surprise for whoever might come after?” she suggests. 

“Makes sense,” Joker says. And it does. He remembers the stories on the net during the war. He remembers that colony, the one that detonated its reactors instead of falling to the Reapers. He knows the impulse to go out in a blaze of glory, to go out with a fight.

They drift through the empty halls, clearing each room with a methodical precision. It wasn’t a big station. It’s a far cry from Arcturus, where Joker grew up. This one had the facilities for maybe fifty people, seventy five tops. They move through cramped family quarters, but there’s no art on the walls. They didn’t take everything, but the lockers are emptied. Valuables, the important stuff people get attached to, all gone. It was intentional.

Once they’ve made their way up through controls and are certain they’ve hit everything they need, they circle back to the tiny cafeteria to regroup. Some of the systems have reset themselves by now, air circulation and gravity mostly. A blessing and a curse, honestly. The light gravity had given his joints some relief, but it’s nice to get back on his feet again.

He hobbles to the nearest chair and hisses at the stretch in his back as he leans back, propping his feet on the table in front of him. Cheap colony station crap. So little padding on this plastic stuff it’s almost a joke. He thinks longingly of his pilot’s seat, and the heating upgrades he’d managed to sneak in on the last upgrade manifest. Better than standing, at least.

Or pacing. He’s got the perfect view of Shepard in full armour, shotgun still in hand, mapping the number of footsteps from one end of this dinky little dining room to another. “You know you can relax for a bit, right?” he calls. She pauses for a moment, then continues. “We’ve been through this whole station. Eyes on everything. There’s no one else here.”

“Maybe,” she concedes, but the corners of her mouth are turning up, and she sighs, holstering her gun. “But the last time I tried to relax, a clone version of me tried to kill me.”

Fair point. “You have got to stop being so interesting, Shepard,” Joker says. “Try out being boring for a change. Lot of waiting around for someone _else_ to do the rescuing.” She ducks her head and laughs. “A lot less paperwork, too.”

She knows what he’s doing, but she still rewards him with a grin, skipping over the chairs to come and lean against his table. “I have a template now,” she reminds him. She’s still positioned herself to watch the exits, but it’s a start. “But that does sounds nice.”

“That it does,” Joker says. He looks around at the cramped room, overturned chairs and empty cupboards. This isn’t a place he wants to be for any longer than he has to be. “We should probably try comms again, huh?” 

Shepard clicks on her omnitool and gives it an impatient shake as it flickers and pulses. “Still can’t establish a connection,” she says. She pulls a face. “We’d better look for something else.” She’s not - she’s not unconcerned, but she doesn’t seem nearly as worried as Joker is. Maybe it’s the N7 training or maybe she’s just been dumped into so many weird situations that no comms falls somewhere closer to ‘vague annoyance’ than ‘actual situation’. It definitely doesn’t hurt his stress levels.

“Bet we could rig something with the comms array,” Joker suggests. He pulls himself to his feet, back complaining. “Isolated station like this, they’re gonna have a pretty good system in place.”

It’s a little thing, but Shepard matches his stride when she walks to meet him. “I don’t know if you know this,” she says, “but I’m kind of better at hitting things than I am with, uh. Any technology.”

“Please, Shepard,” Joker says, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t think I was just a pretty face, did you?”

He’s not imagining the flush rising on her cheeks. Holy shit. “No,” she says. “I also thought you were a decent pilot.”

Thank God she’s given him an out, so he doesn’t have to address that ‘also’. He’s not even sure where he’d start addressing that. “‘Decent’?” His voice rises in mock outrage and she laughs, turning her face away. “I’m insulted! Best damn pilot in the Alliance and you say I’m _decent_.”

They have to climb a ladder to get up to the control centre of the station and Shepard takes the lead. “Alright,” she calls over her shoulder. “I admit it. You’re pretty good.”

She holds her hand out to help him up. He takes it, and even if her grip is gentle, his elbow aches. Man, he’s really gotta get back to his training routines. Maybe Chakwas was on to something with that.

“I’m outraged,” he tells her, and it makes her smile. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Oh, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” she says.

The only answer he’s got for her is a nervous laugh.

When they make it to the control centre, Shepard gives the comms console a try, but it’s as dead as most of the rest of the equipment around here. Good thing Joker’s got an idea of what to do with that. He eases himself down to the floor and ducks under the console. His school breaks spent working tech maintenance at his mother’s insistence are really coming in handy here. He doesn’t have any tools, and his omnitool is about as useful as a hole in the head, but he thinks he can rig something up.

Luckily, most station rigs run on variations of the same system, and his omnitool functions for just long enough to let him pry the cover off, but blinks off when he tries to run a second program. “Hey,” he calls. “Do you have a knife? Like, a real one?”

“Uh, yeah.” He’s startled when he pulls his head out to see Shepard holding out three separate blades. “This help?”

He stares at her. “Where do you even _keep_ all that?” He takes the smallest, the most useful for him right now.

“Oh, you know,” she says. He shakes his head at her because _no, he doesn’t_. Maybe when you wear that much armour, the weapons just multiply. 

He slides back under the console, already cursing the awkward angle. Chakwas is gonna make him do stretches for the rest of his life after this. Still, work to be done. He starts digging into the wiring, looking for the line to the auxiliary power. 

“So, uh.” He hears Shepard settle onto the floor next to him, armour rattling against the cheap flooring. “Since when do you know how to do this stuff?”

There it is. He teases out the wire, examining the whole thing. This thing is ancient, looks like it shorted out some time ago. “I grew up on Arcturus Station,” he says. “Mom told me I had to pick up _some_ skills that weren’t related to ships.” He pokes his head out again, smirks at her. “Joke’s on her, I only picked comms because it was right above the hangar. Great view.”

“Sounds like you,” Shepard says.

He falls silent to focus on what he’s doing in front of him. It’s been a while since he’s had the opportunity to flex these particular muscles, and he wants to make sure he can pull it off. “Alright,” he says finally. “Give it a try.”

It’s gratifying to hear the console boot up above him, and Shepard’s sigh of relief. He takes the hand she holds out to help him up. “Not too shabby,” she says, and he’s not expecting the admiration in her voice.

“You, uh, you have got to work on your compliments,” he tells her.

“Noted.”

It takes them a few minutes, but they manage to call up communications with the Normandy. “What’s the situation?” Shepard asks. She’s got her Commander voice on again. 

“The ship’s fine,” Kaidan assures her. “James, too. He caught the edge of the pulse, but we picked him up before he drifted away.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Joker says. He holds up his hands in apology when Shepard shoots him a look. 

“The EMP was not strong enough to reach the Normandy,” EDI explains. “It seems that you two are the only ones affected.”

“‘Are’?” Shepard asks.

“Sensors indicate a residual field emanating from the engine core. It is enough to keep any ships attempting to land grounded.”

Joker snorts. “More goodies left over from the former residents.”

“It will take us some time to construct a way to disable it remotely.”

“Of course it will,” Shepard mutters. She rubs a hand over her eyes. “Just how much time is this going to take?”

Joker can practically hear Kaidan hesitate. “Too long to make it to Caleston on time for the ceremony,” he admits.

“Sounds about right.” Shepard stands up straight, props her hands on her hips and thinks. “Alright. We have life support and gravity back online, and I’ve got enough field rations to last the day and a half until you get back.”

“Wait,” Joker says. “Get _back_?”

Shepard shrugs. “Some of the crew of the Normandy showing up is better than none at all. Besides, you said it yourself. We’re fine here. The most dangerous thing on here is the dust.” 

“I could be allergic,” Joker says, a patent lie. Besides, it’s obvious she’s made up her mind.

“Kaidan, I want you to head to the ceremony without us.” Shepard says. “It shouldn’t take long. In the meantime, Joker and I will work on disabling the field ourselves. Maybe we’ll even make some progress.”

“You’re very optimistic.”

“You’re sure?” Kaidan asks. “I’m sure they’d understand -”

“Looks like you’re the one who gets to deal with the press,” Shepard says cheerfully. “The second human Spectre is a pretty good consolation prize.”

“Yeah, thank you, Commander,” Kaidan says. In the background, Joker can hear Vega saying something about a bar. He never quits.

“I think it’s worth it to give Caleston some sense of normalcy, of closure.” Joker shifts to lean back against the console, legs stretched flat against the floor, and he looks up at her. She’s trapped on a decrepit mining station and she’s still thinking about everyone else. “Go ahead, we’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Joker grumbles. “Super.” He’s starting to remember why he doesn’t do field missions any more.

“We’ll see you in a few,” Kaidan says, and then the line clicks, disconnected. 

Shepard rounds on Joker. “I could have almost sworn I heard complaining there,” she says, eyes narrowed. “But I couldn’t possibly have, because you invited yourself on this mission _and_ took it upon yourself to get off the shuttle.”

“Now who’s hearing things?” Joker asks.

“Why did you decide to come with us, anyway?” 

Oooh, nope. Joker’s not ready for this conversation. He struggles to his feet. “You think they’ve still got some food here?”

Shepard eyes him, but she lets it slide. He’s always liked that about her. “Doubtful,” she tells him after a moment. “It looks like they took everything of value out of here.” She starts fumbling with one of the pouches strapped to her waist. “I have some field rations, if you’re hungry.”

Joker stares at her for a moment, before stretching with a hand pressed to the small of his back. “I said _food_ ,” he says, grimacing. “Let’s see what we can find.”

 

 

Joker ends up propped on a stool in front of the cooking element, stirring up some reheated beans. It’s a recipe he picked up in flight school, mostly cobbled together from the kind of cheap vegetable protein that most colonists can get their hands on, and whatever spices and flavouring you can dig up, but it’s the only thing he’s ever been any good at cooking. 

“I’ve never seen you cook,” Shepard says curiously. She’s got her chin propped up in her hand, watching him. 

“Don’t get too attached,” Joker says. “You probably won’t ever see it again.”’

“Maybe you were right about me not knowing you,” she says quietly. She’s peeled off her armour, left it piled in a sort of approximation of neatness, and she’s folded up on a chair. He can count the number of times he’s seen her like this on one hand. “I feel like I’m learning a lot here.”

“We should totally get stranded in abandoned mining stations more often,” he says. He gestures for the bowls and she slides them within reach for him. She gave them a scrub when he started cooking. No need to eat a mouthful of dust with the rest of it. “Maybe next time you can cook.”

“Yeah…” she says, watching him spoon out the food. “Sure. Maybe.”

Joker laughs. “Oh I was definitely fucking with you,” he says. He hands her her food. “I know better than to eat anything you cook.” He takes his own bowl and shovels in a bite. This one isn’t too bad. He can tell these cans have been kicking around for a while, but old school preservation techniques remain amazingly effective. 

“ _Thanks_ ,” she says. He watches her take a spoonful and her eyebrows shoot up. “Hey, this is pretty good.”

“You’re welcome,” he says pointedly. He likes the way she grins at him. “See if I ever do this again.”

“You never answered me, by the way,” Shepard says. Joker freezes, but does his best to feign nonchalance. Oh boy. “Why did you decide to come on this mission, anyway?”

Joker shifts back on his stool, hunching over his bowl. If he doesn’t make eye contact, she doesn’t have him cornered. “Oh, well, you know. Gotta keep the ole skills sharp. And maybe I wanted to give EDI a turn at the helm of the Normandy. Obviously.”

Shepard doesn’t say anything. She keeps chewing, eyes steady on him. 

He hates that it breaks him. “Okay, maybe, maybe it’s because I saw you in your armour. And maybe it reminded me of the old Normandy. And I wanted to have your back.” Because he hadn’t, then. And he’ll never stop regretting that. Even if she’s back, even if she’s here, and Cerberus rebuilt her, the whole nine yards, he’s never going to forget watching her spin out into the black of space, clutching at her air supply. 

She’s still not saying anything. He glances up and she’s watching him, colour in her cheeks, a soft smile on her lips making his stomach do a friggin tango. “So you weren’t just trying to get me alone?” she asks.

He gulps. “Hey, I’d definitely pick a better setting than _this_.” He gestures around them at the dinky cafeteria. “Give me some credit.”

“Oh, I give you plenty of credit,” she says. She looks more nervous than he’s ever seen her, and he feels like they’re walking on some tightrope right now, and it’s goddamn _exhilarating_.

There’s a part of him that wonders if this could have happened earlier. Like, what if he’d said something before? After Ilos, after Cerberus came back, could any of this happened? Or did it need this moment, some shitty beans in a beat-up mining station? 

He takes a breath. “Hey, just so you know, I would definitely kiss you right now, but I have beans-mouth.”

She puts her face in her hands and she laughs, shoulders shaking. “Oh, thanks,” she says. “Super considerate.”

“Fuck it.” He sets down his bowl with a clatter and eases himself off his stool, hobbling around the counter to where she’s sitting. He’s always known she’s taller than him (it’s the whole Marine thing, plus his bones never quite getting where they should have), but when he steps up to her, fits himself between her knees on the stool, she’s at the perfect height to meet her lips. He settles his hands on her hips and she cups his face in her hands and then they’re kissing and it’s literally one of the greatest moments of his life, right up there with stealing the Normandy. 

“Hey,” she says. “So. That was pretty good. I liked that.”

“Thanks for the rating,” he tells her. She digs her knuckles into his ribs. “Ow! I’m breakable! C’mon.”

“Four out of five stars,” she decides, letting her arms slide to rest over his shoulders. “For the beans breath. There’s always room for improvement.” 

“Are you asking me to practice?” he asks.

“I could be,” Shepard agrees, and she leans in to kiss him again.

 

 

The Normandy returns a lot faster than a day and a half, and Joker’s half stoked and half annoyed. Stoked, because the bunks in this place are hard as rocks, and it’s really hard to fit two people in them. Annoyed, because he knows that gossip runs at the speed of light in the Normandy, and it’s gonna be way harder to grab a moment with Shepard now that they’re back.

Worth it, though.

Steve and Vega are on the shuttle that comes to pick them up. “You missed out,” Vega tells them. “Open bar, _and_ a whole bevy of beauties.” He kisses his gloved fingertips. “It was great.” 

Joker takes his hand to climb onto the shuttle. “That why you look hungover as hell right now?” he asks. “You are literally green.”

“We’re getting old,” Steve calls over his shoulder fondly. “Can’t party like we used to.”

“Sure we can,” Vega says, outraged.

The shuttle shifts a little as Shepard climbs in after them. He feels the press of her hand against his back and he lets her steer him to a seat. “If you throw up in here, you clean it up,” Shepard warns. “I am not doing missions in vomit smell.”

There’s something about the slow hum of the shuttle’s thrusters as they set off that feels kind of like coming home, even if Joker isn’t behind the controls. Maybe, though, it’s got something to do with Shepard sitting next to him, giving him a little, secret smile, just for him.

“That’s fair,” Vega says. “I get that.” For a moment, Joker thinks they’ve made it, that maybe it’s gone over Vega’s head, but then Vega’s eyes go wide, taking in the lack of space between Joker and Shepard. “ _Oh_. Okay. Madre, finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joker asks, but Vega’s grinning at him, holding his hands out.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, with all the subtlety he can muster (that is to say - absolutely _none_. “I’ma just go sit up front with Esteban. You kids have fun.”

Next to Joker, Shepard snorts, dragging a hand down her face. “Well, that’s that, then,” she murmurs.

“I hate this ship,” Joker says conversationally, and Shepard curls her hand around his knee and she laughs.


End file.
